


A silver bullet

by MyLadyDay



Series: From dust [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, First Meetings, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Injuries, Unprofessional treating of injuries, Werewolf Jesse McCree, Young Hanzo Shimada, gun shot wound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-06 08:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11597052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLadyDay/pseuds/MyLadyDay
Summary: Jesse didn't have to be at his best to read this guy's movements and notice he was a threat if he needed to be, with or without the bow. Not that Jesse was looking to attack, anyway. He may have been reckless sometimes, but he wasn't downright stupid.





	A silver bullet

**Author's Note:**

> Edit (August 3rd): Changed the title for reasons. 
> 
> So basically, I've started this back in November and the idea is that I have a series of oneshots in this verse. I've got around 6 ideas already, but I have no idea in which order I'm writing them in.

Consciousness came slowly, like a thick fog lifting from where it was wrapped tightly around him. Jesse grappled with it for a moment or maybe longer, he couldn’t really say with the heaviness of sleep still clinging to him. He couldn’t open his eyes just yet, but that hardly mattered at this point, where simply forming a coherent thought took a considerable amount of effort. It was a hell of a state to be in while knowing there was something awfully wrong.

The heaviness of his eyelids was nothing compared to the weights his limbs turned into, weighing him down on whatever it was that he lay on top of. It was soft, with the subtle scent of something sweet and unfamiliar. Too faint for him to make out or even bother trying at this point.

There was something in the air around him, a thick heavy smoke, masking all other smells to a degree where Jesse felt disoriented, even more so in combination with the rest of the sensations he was feeling. The overwhelming warmth of the room, the pain throughout his entire being, the strange smell of another person and scents so unfamiliar, he could hardly draw in a breath from it all. He couldn't even tell how long it'd been since anyone but him had been there which was bad in itself, knowing it couldn't have been that long. Having his senses dulled was the worst thing that could have happened to him.

He couldn't think of a single reason why he'd be in an unknown place, assaulted by all these unfamiliar sensations and it woke an intense kind of alarm in his chest that he wasn't used to. Every slight shift of his body caused a jolt of pain to run through him, starting from somewhere on his front leg until it spread, making it impossible to tell what hurt the most and what didn't hurt at all.

The overall bad feeling only intensified when enough sense returned to him to remember the last time he'd hurt this much and why. It was  the only time Jesse got hit by a silver bullet and the sensation was one he wasn't very likely to forget, especially now that he got to experience it all over again. He really could have lived without the reminder.

With that realization, gathering his wits became much easier, his mind going from sluggish to its usual sharpness. Jesse forced himself to focus and stay as unassuming as ever, pretending he was still asleep until he got his bearings and figured out how to proceed. His nose was all but useless, though, overwhelmed as it was with the scents of so many things that were of little to no importance to him at the moment. His sense of smell was much stronger with the wolf's nose and that was only making things more difficult for him for the time being. He had an awful feeling that it was entirely on purpose.

Moving inconspicuously would be easier if he shifted back, but that was a decision he'd rather make after being sure he was alone.

"I know you are awake."

Jesse stilled completely, just for a moment, as if he hadn't been almost as still as a corpse so far, straining his ears to figure out just how close or far this person was. There wasn't a sound to be heard, though. The voice itself had been quiet, probably impossible to hear for anyone but Jesse, with the hearing of a wolf to help him.

Being unable to tell was distressing enough, though, without the added panic of being cornered and injured. The wolf was having none of it, biting through the pain to get up and snarl into the face of whoever it was that had him captured. His leg was beyond useless, but Jesse ignored it as best as he could, even if the pain made him dizzy. That didn't stop him from snarling while he pretended he wasn't half blind from the pain.

"I cannot help you unless you turn back," the man spoke again, his voice rough and oh so quiet, but the cold steely note in it was impossible to miss.

He was much younger than his voice would suggest, Jesse realized once his vision evened out. He was crouching just beyond the foot of the bed, as far from Jesse as possible in a room that small, with his back to the wall and a bow in his hands, the arrowhead glinting in the light where it was aimed at Jesse. With the scarce lighting in the room, Jesse couldn't see his eyes properly, hidden in the shadow cast by his hair, but they still managed to reflect some of the dim light from the small lamp by his side.

He looked like a man possessed and Jesse almost faltered where he was, unable to smell even a trace of fear on him, despite being faced with a snarling beast of a wolf. There wasn't a single doubt in Jesse's mind that that one arrow would be enough to bring him down in the state he was in, but it didn't stop him from letting out a low growl. He could be reasonable and rethink his course of action, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Do you understand me?" the guy asked lowly, lifting his head until the deep shadows disappeared and Jesse could see his face, far far younger than he'd initially thought. Jesse bared his teeth anyway, making himself as threatening as possible even if he felt like he might pass out at any moment. 

Neither of them looked away or moved for a moment, staring at each other and waiting for something to happen. The pain was starting to take over and Jesse had a bad feeling that he wouldn't be able to scare this person into submission, at least not before he passed out, and wasn’t that something.

It was probably a bad decision, but Jesse pulled back a bit, enough to show he was standing down and inclined his head. If he thought he could have won this fight and gotten out in better shape than he was in now, Jesse would have ripped the guy's head off before he could even release his arrow. Not that the arrow scared him, unless it was silver, but with the damn bullet still lodged in his leg, there wasn't much choice but to give in.

Slowly, the man rose from his spot, revealing that he was quite a bit shorter than Jesse, hands still perfectly steady on the bow and eyes trained on Jesse without wavering for a moment. Jesse couldn't help the inkling of admiration that reared up; he hadn't faced a single human that knew what he was and still remained fearless.

"I only wish to help," he said carefully, lowering the bow in a slow motion, but his eyes stayed on Jesse. There was something in them he couldn't place, but he took the offer now that he had no other choice. He could feel the burn from the silver spread through his veins, knowing it was only a matter of time before it poisoned him completely.

"I will be back in ten minutes," he said, still speaking like raising his voice just a little would disturb this shaky truce they had built like this, without a way to communicate and see what their intentions truly were. "Pants are at the foot of the bed," he added, nodding towards the bundle in the far corner, before slowly making his way towards the door, his eyes never leaving Jesse.

With a soft click of the door, he was gone and Jesse never thought he'd feel relief for being given some privacy to shift back into his human body. Only then did he, very briefly, wonder just how he was even brought in there. A tentative sniff revealed that theirs were the only scents in the room, save for the incense and things a human might need more or less to live comfortably, so the only option was that he was carried by this one man.

Jesse knew he was beyond just heavy when he was human, let alone the hulking mass of his wolf body, and couldn't help but be impressed again.

Still, thinking about that made him think of just how he'd gotten into this position, where he was stuck with a silver bullet in his leg, laid out on some stranger's bed. For the time being, he decided to focus on shifting quickly, like ripping a huge, extremely painful band aid.

Setting all other thoughts aside, Jesse focused on his human form, on walking on two legs and standing straight, on holding his gun and tipping his hat, on the jingle of his spurs when he walked and the taste of smoke from a cigarillo on his tongue. He couldn't stop the pitiful whine this time, not when his bones realigned and his muscles shifted, taking the bullet with them, tearing through his arm as it changed.

In the face of that, the regular pain of his transformation went almost unnoticed.

Had it been a different situation, he might have considered it a blessing in disguise, but there was no way his mind could form a thought when overwhelmed with the feeling of the searing burn of silver stuck inside him, moving painfully slowly until he had a human mouth to cry out with.

By the time he was wholly human, Jesse was gulping for breath, sweat pouring off him from the exertion and the overwhelming hurt. The sweat was streaking him with dirt that he was covered with from earlier, soaking the previously clean sheets, but that was the furthest from his mind. His left arm was nothing but a bundle of fire, feeling like an exposed nerve, making him feel like he might pass out if he moved it too much.

He sucked it up, though, reaching for the soft sweatpants left for him, aiming to at least have that on by the time he had company again. There was no way for him to tell just how long it's been, but he was comforting himself with the knowledge that he could lie down again once the pants were on.

Putting them on was a whole other mess of pain and frustration, but he did it, immediately dirtying them up. At least he wasn't bleeding anymore, which was a small victory, almost inconsequential really, but he wasn't beyond taking what he could get at the moment.

He'd barely noticed the shaking as he struggled to take a proper breath, feeling as if he'd run miles uphill. The sweat was almost dripping from his hair at this point and Jesse was pretty sure he'd never felt this disgusting before, but all of that took a backseat to the pain. Silver was the worst thing that could have happened to him, though that went beyond just this particular mission.

And he could vaguely remember the mission now, even with the pain fogging his mind. It was supposed to be a simple mission of scouting a possible Talon base in a small town in southern Russia and the fact Reyes sent him there on his own only made matters worse. At the moment, Jesse was too out of it to even try and figure out how the hell he was discovered, let alone how whoever shot him knew to use silver bullets. Technically, not even the rest of Blackwatch knew he was there, let alone anyone else.

The door opening snapped Jesse out of it, as much as that was possible in the state he was in, and the same man from earlier stepped in, but didn't move far from the doorway with the bow at the ready. His face showed no emotion as he looked over Jesse, eyes flickering briefly to the wound on his arm, before he carefully, almost painfully slowly set the bow down, propping it against the wall where he'd been sitting earlier. Then he was gone again, almost in a flash, and Jesse tensed, half expecting to be ambushed now that he was a more manageable target.

Jesse didn't have to be at his best to read this guy's movements and notice he was a threat if he needed to be, with or without the bow. Not that Jesse was looking to attack, anyway. He may have been reckless sometimes, but he wasn't downright stupid.

The guy came back with a small wash basin with steam rising from it and several clean towels draped over his forearm. He looked weary as he walked around the bed to place the basin on the bedside table next to where Jesse still sat with his bare feet planted on the carpeted floor. The towels were left there as well, before he slipped out again, only to return frighteningly fast with a small first aid kit.

"Who are you?" Jesse asked, voice so scratchy and rough, he barely recognized it as his own.

The stranger looked at him, straight in the eyes as he crouched down in front of him slowly without so much as blinking.

"No one," he answered and Jesse wanted to groan or sigh or roll his eyes, but couldn't find the strength to do any of it. “Lie down," he added, turning his attention to the wound on Jesse's arm. His stoic mask of an expression faltered a little then and only confirmed what Jesse was afraid of.

"Gotta call you something," Jesse said as he pulled his legs back up on the bed, doing his damn best to keep the pain from his voice as he lowered himself to lie flat on the bed. As much as he tried not moving his arm, it was easier said than done. Even the tiniest jostle made him feel like his arm might fall off, but he couldn't show it. Well, didn't want to at any rate.

The only reply he got was a distracted grunt and Jesse opened his eyes, unsure when exactly he'd closed them, before leaning his head to the side to take a look at this stranger that seemed awfully intent on helping him.

He still said nothing though, focus entirely on the mess of dried blood and torn flesh that was his arm, and Jesse wanted to grab his hair and pull on it in frustration. Jesse wasn’t really interested in getting to know this guy, but talking was probably the only shot he had at distracting himself. Whether he got anything in reply or not wasn’t as important.

There was barely a moment left for him to spare a thought to the fact he'd just obeyed someone who wasn't his commanding officer without so much as trying to fight it. If nothing else, that served to remind him just how much silver fucked him up, making him willing to trust a stranger just to get the damn thing out of his arm.

"I'll just have'ta come up with something then," he said, going for indifference, but his voice was betraying every bit of agony he was in. It was getting more difficult to mask it the longer he was awake, but Jesse was completely sure he hadn't been fooling anyone from the start.

Something cold touched his arm then and Jesse startled, even if it was soothing in the face of what felt like fire on his arm. He noted then he was being observed reverently, the stranger's eyes unwavering just like before, making Jesse wonder briefly if the guy ever blinked, but looked down towards his arm before he could dwell on it for longer than necessary.

The hand that was holding him was surprisingly cold, but completely steady, holding onto his arm a safe distance from the wound.

"The kit has no anesthetics," the guy said in the same low voice he'd spoken in earlier, revealing nothing beyond the words that left his mouth. He sounded like talking was something he wasn’t in the habit of doing.

For a moment, Jesse wondered what he was actually trying to say when he caught the glint of a pair of tweezers in his other hand. His jaw clenched out of reflex. There was no way to misinterpret what was about to happen, even if Jesse wished he could skip this part.

Instead of doing anything, though, he nodded lightly, taking a deep breath that came out more ragged than he would have liked on a good day, then looked away from his injured arm.

It was an awful lot of trust to show another person, a stranger no less, and it made Jesse itch with how wrong it felt, letting someone this close when he was injured and in no shape to defend himself if it came down to that.

"Why are y'doing this anyway?" Jesse asked, his head turned away. He was curious about the answer to this question, at least.

Instead of a reply, though, Jesse got barely a heartbeat to recognize the cold, almost soothing touch of the metal tweezers against his arm before they were digging into the wound. They almost felt like they were made of silver as well, but Jesse managed to clench his jaw in time to stop the pained groan from becoming a full on scream. 

He wasn't fooling anyone and he knew it, but whoever his mystery savior was, at least he had the decency not to comment on it. Jesse wasn't sure if he'd even hear anything at the moment anyway, with all his focus firmly on the feeling of his arm being ripped apart while a hand almost as cold as ice held it down with more strength than he could muster just then. He was feeling weaker than ever and it was something he never wanted to experience ever again. 

It only got worse from there, as the tweezers dug blindly through his arm, trying to grab hold of the bullet. Jesse grit his teeth, barely aware of his eyes clenching shut as he struggled to keep quiet while someone clearly not trained as a medic rummaged through his arm. He had to give the guy some credit, though, he barely made a sound.

Or maybe Jesse just couldn't hear anything over the sound of blood, rushing through his ears.

His arm must have been on fire by now, Jesse could almost feel the flames cutting through his flesh. The metal of the tweezers barely registered as a separate sensation anymore, all of it engulfed by the burning of silver.

Oh, Jesse fucking hated silver.

The hatred didn't outweigh the pain at the moment, however, and he doubted anything would be able to do that, especially when the bullet was finally caught. Having the silver dragged out of his arm slowly, so painfully slowly, was the last straw.

He howled then, howled out in agony like he couldn't remember experiencing. His nose filled with the heavy scent of blood, strong enough to overpower even the scent of the incense at last. The burning spread through his arm, all the way to his fingertips, but the rest of him felt so numb, so detached from the pain.

Except for his throat, and the burn burst forth, reminding him that he was still howling, like there was a full moon calling to him and he couldn't stop himself from replying. The scream continued, no matter how hard he tried to stop it, the sound mixing with the harsh breaths he struggled to take. Choking didn't seem like such a bit thing at the moment, when he was deaf to everything but the hoarse sound leaving his mouth.

His throat was raw, on fire as much as his arm, but still he couldn't stop, could get himself under control and it went against everything Gabe taught him. The control over his own body was slipping from him, leaving an emptiness in his chest that could only be filled with anxiety. Control wasn't something he let go of easily, not when he fought so hard for it, but to feel it slip away like this hurt the same as the wound.

The arm felt like a burning mess, though, red hot and overwhelming to the point where he couldn't even tell where the bullet was anymore.

His voice was giving out, growing weaker by the second until he was gulping air like a drowning man, instead of screaming his lungs out and his awareness spread from the pain in his throat, bringing him back into the present, into that small room, on the small bed, with a stranger at his side.

Jesse's breathing was harsh at best, his lungs actually aching with the strain of it, but not enough to get him to calm down and breathe properly. His healthy hand was buried in the sheets, knuckles painful in the way they were straining with the death grip he had on the fabric beneath. Sweat poured from him, cooling his skin where the stranger's breath brushed against him.

Finally, Jesse managed to open his eyes to notice his arm was free of the cool hand that held it still and the burning bite of the tweezers that managed to dig out the silver bullet. In all honesty, he hadn't even noticed when it was over; the pain hadn't magically disappeared, it somehow seemed worse, with the silver's poison spreading as the bullet moved.

It was out though, Jesse could see it as soon as he turned his head towards the bedside table, he could see it lying there, bloodying up the wood. His eyes had a hard time focusing on anything, flitting between the bullet on the nightstand to the bloody hands of the stranger next to him as they dipped into the water in the wash basin.

He couldn't look away from the red swirling in the water, tainting it in such a mesmerizing way, until the touch of a wet towel on his arm sent another shock of fire through him and he grit his teeth, eyes falling shut of their own accord. It was too much, his entire body feeling too raw, like a gaping wound that wouldn't be allowed to heal.

Another scream was torn from him mere moments later, when the heat of disinfectant bit into the wound, snapping him out of a daze that may have been the verge of sleep. It was hard to say, now that he was more awake than ever, and couldn't remember a time when he wasn't awash with pain.

He felt like he was being washed away by a strong currant, unable to keep himself afloat without something to focus on. At least until a voice reached him, soft and low and awfully impossible to understand, but present nonetheless, a murmur of comfort that kept him tethered. There was no way to understand the words that were being said, but it didn't matter anyway.

The gentle whisper of a soft towel against his skin came to his attention, but he was too weak to care, to react. He found himself too weak for a lot of things, and he couldn't say he liked it even a little, but his options were painfully limited with the way he was.

There were hands on him, gentle, barely noticeable, obviously not a threat. Cold hands, brushing against his too hot skin. Jesse didn't know them, but they were a comfort, a lullaby that calmed him enough to relax into the bed, to ease his grip on the sheets and let his hand recover from the strain.

Without even noticing it happening, he breathed easily, or as easily as possible given the circumstances. His eyes were closed already, they had been for a while, but he had no idea when he'd closed them. That was becoming familiar too, but he felt he could finally rest, now that the pain seemingly numbed, and that felt like it shouldn't have happened. He embraced it, though, wishing for some relief at last.

* * *

He went from deep sleep to a state of complete awareness with a single flash of thunder, the sound of rain immediately soothing the panic that came with an awakening like that. The panic didn't disappear completely, though, not with the dull pain radiating from his forearm and the heavy scent of blood in the air, or the bed that obviously wasn't his.

The fact he even fell asleep as soundly was unusual given the circumstances, but Jesse was smart enough to realize he probably just passed out from the pain. It wasn't so hard to believe, given that the pain level was still just shy of insufferable.

Jesse opened his eyes, exhaling slowly to get rid of the last bits of anxiety, and momentarily forgetting his training and that he should be on high alert after waking up in an unfamiliar place. He already knew where he was. Kind of. Now that his eyes were open, he could confirm that he was still in that same small room, dressed in the same blood stained pair of sweatpants.

There was a pristine white bandage wrapped tightly around his forearm that he didn't remember getting, but it wasn't difficult to figure out who put it there. The first aid kit and the bloody bullet were still in the same spot they were last time Jesse was awake, but there was no sign of the stranger or his bow.

He didn't make an effort to move just yet. At this point, Jesse felt like he'd been run over by a truck, without a clue about how long he'd been asleep, but he was still alive so the situation obviously wasn't that dire just yet.

Sure, being stranded somewhere like that, without equipment or money or even clothes, wasn't the ideal situation, especially while injured, but Jesse had gotten out of worse. He knew, though, that it was past his assigned check in and he'd be in a lot of trouble with Gabe once he got back. Again, he'd been through worse in that regard as well.

Getting out of bed was an ordeal, but it was a start, and Jesse had no time to waste anymore. He'd probably missed his transport back to base and would have to find a way to get to Switzerland himself, but that was all easier said than done before he knew he could even walk properly. Searching for the stranger who saved his life was the first item on his list, and seemed to be the easiest one to achieve. He'd deal with the tougher stuff later.

The small nondescript bedroom was situated in a small nondescript apartment. It was in no way memorable, one of those cheap rentals where no one asked questions. Jesse himself had lived in apartments like that on missions before, never for very long, and every time had been an experience.

But that also meant there was absolutely nothing around the apartment to tell him who his good samaritan was. Or where he'd gone.

The apartment was completely empty, no sign of another person left in there, save for some basic ingredients in the kitchen, enough to make himself a meal or two, and a bottle of shampoo in the bathroom. Whoever the man was, he seemed to have disappeared right after Jesse passed out.

As frustrating as that was, Jesse couldn't find it in himself to care. He had to make it to Switzerland alive, without any money or clothes or a means of contact to his team. There were bigger fish to fry; Jesse had to get his act together, and find a way home. The pain in his arm and the overall feeling of dread came second to that.

  
  



End file.
